


Cherry-Scented Candles

by jisungtheworld (winwinnie)



Series: The Forest Speaks [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, M/M, Multi, and seungmin as a demon, bc he's dead and a ghostie, by the end it's really domestic wtf, featuring jeongin as angsty boi, hyunjin as a loving boyfriend, jisung is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/jisungtheworld
Summary: The boy with cherry-red hair, standing in the middle of the summoning circle, is not Jeongin's brother.





	Cherry-Scented Candles

**Author's Note:**

> minor warning for death

It's been sixteen years since Jeongin's older brother died.

That's a long time.

It's been so long that he only exists in shadows in Jeongin's memory. A vague recollection of blonde hair and a huge smile, hands that always seemed warm when they held Jeongin's tiny ones. A feeling in his chest that never failed to make him feel safe.

He can just about remember arms helping him to walk. They were there for every tiny step he took, before he crumpled to the ground again and kissed the earth. His brother crouched beside him and pressed his own lips to the concrete.

The sounds of their parents arguing were drowned out by never ending tales of dragons and knights. He had a way with words, and even if Jeongin can't remember what the words exactly were, he remembers they were amazing. He could spin story after story with nothing but his tongue, and Jeongin was the star of every single one.

His words hung in the air; each letter moulded from stardust. Jeongin could trace each one with his finger, eyes huge and full of wonder:

His brother loved him so much.

Of course it was that love that got him killed.

Though Jeongin was only two when he died, he has never stopped missing Han Jisung.

"Is this really a good idea?" is the first thing Hyunjin says. He hasn't even stepped inside the house yet, idling nervously on the step outside Jeongin's front porch, and yet he's already beginning to have doubts. The dark of the sky behind him provides a perfect backdrop. The lights of the porch illuminate his skin to a golden glow, his eyes sparkling brighter than the stars.

Jeongin isn't surprised. Hyunjin is loud laughs, a text message only a few seconds away, and undying loyalty. Hyunjin is not making decisions that could possibly go wrong.

Jeongin knows that.

That's why he planned for this.

"Don't think you're getting out of this," he warns, pulling the older boy into the house and shutting the door behind him, "You made a promise."

Hyunjin is not breaking promises either.

Hyunjin doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. His silence provides enough meaning for Jeongin to understand, even the movement of hanging his coat on the banister dripping with unspoken worries.

But Jeongin isn't cruel.

Determined, yes.

But not cruel, never cruel.

"Hey," he whispers. His tone is soft, words covered with a sweet honey that coats his lips, "You don't have to do this. I won't force you."

Hyunjin looks up. His skin is still glowing, even in the relative darkness of the hallway, hair falling perfectly either side of his face. Huge eyes that never look away, blessed with a kiss from a Faerie just underneath one of them. Hyunjin is kindness, a hand that never falls away, soft lips against his palms in the middle of the night.

Hyunjin is the light at the end of Jeongin's tunnel.

And Jeongin takes his hand as he leads them into the room they've been preparing for the last month.

It's large, and almost fully wooden. Long dark planks cover the floor, and the walls are a similar material. They're lined with bookcases, each filled with leather-bound pages that have taken years to collect. There's a certain sheen of dust in the air, but they're both used to it by now.

Besides, there's something much more impressive in the centre of the room.

"What's up with these candles?" Hyunjin nudges one with his sock and the flame flickers briefly. Jeongin's heart rises to his throat- he doesn't know what happens if it goes out but it can't be anything good. There's a tense moment of silence, before the flame seems to burn even brighten than before.

Jeongin can't help but smile. He's already beginning to become slightly giddy, his thoughts swirling around his head like ice cubes in a drink, frozen water pressed right up to his temples. "They were on offer."

Hyunjin nods, as if that makes sense, before suddenly wrinkling his nose. He looks like a child, making an exaggerated exclamation of disgust. Jeongin can't help it if his heart skips a beat. It's strangely endearing. "Are they  _scented?_ "

"They were on offer."

"You're using  _raspberry-scented candles_ to summon your brother's ghost? What if he comes back and he smells like raspberries? What if he comes back and he  _is_ a raspberry?"

Jeongin rolls his eyes. "As if. I looked it up, and the internet says it doesn't matter as long as we have the right amount." He brings the match to the final candle, pressing it against the wick and watching as flame licks the cold wax. He's just beginning to realise why Hyunjin was screwing his nose up. The air is thick with the scent of fruit, filling his lungs with a heavy sweetness that stings the back of his throat. "Besides, they're cherry."

"They're basically the same thing," mutters Hyunjin in the background, but Jeongin's already distracted.

The final candle is lit.

He drops the match into the bubbling wax, not bothering to blow it out and instead letting the flames consume the flimsy wood. The candle slides perfectly into place on their crudely-drawn sigil. Already, the room seems charged with an unknown energy.

"Are you ready?"

Hyunjin nods, "You?"

Is he?

Isn't this the moment he's been waiting for?

In a few minutes, he's going to see his brother again. Bring back to life what only remains in grainy photos and the very depths of his memory. Jisung's notebook lies in the centre of the circle. Its pages are creased, stained yellow with age. The words within it are nothing more than smudges, blue ink that ran and mingled with his blood as the rain slowly soaked through each page.

He's ready.

Hyunjin passes him the book without him needing to ask for it. He stands back up and opens it. The pages immediately fall open to the page they'd poured over for the last few weeks. The string binding has weakened so much that that's where the book naturally opens. Maybe it's a sign that he's too worried, the fact that he knows ever word off by heart. Or maybe it's just a sign that he's finally prepared.

It had taken them so long to find the right book.

Library after library, flipping painstakingly through text after text. It wasn't just trying to separate the truth from the lies, because what Jeongin wanted to do was basically unheard of. Ghosts were dead, and that was that. There was no way to bring them back, no matter what they were told about souls lingering in graveyards. There were too many conditions, and Jeongin couldn't quite bring himself to believe in anything more than spirits.

So they'd searched and searched, and four years had passed, and then-

Then Hyunjin had turned up at Jeongin's window one night. When the sky was dark and clouds had rolled over the moon, he'd thrown stone after stone until he'd gotten the younger boy's attention. And with pink cheeks, held out the book that was in front of them now.

Hyunjin is Jeongin's last hope in more ways than one.

"I'm ready."

They smile at each other, light touches sweeter than any candle could ever be, and begin. Jeongin takes a step back, clutching the pages tighter than ever before. He takes a breath, one hand fluttering out to ghost against Hyunjin's knuckles.

He's ready.

He can do this.

He begins to read.

The Latin spills from his mouth easily, his lips forming each letter so naturally that you'd think it was his mother tongue. There's no hesitation or mistakes in his pronunciation. He's practiced this exact paragraph for weeks upon end until he knew he could get it right. There's no way he's taking any chances.

Hyunjin shuffles ever closer to him, pressing his body behind Jeongin's. His long arms wrap around the boy's waist, acting as a safety net. They're comforting, warm and familiar.

Through the chant, Jeongin smiles.

The air in the room seems to get heavier yet again. If the smell of cherries was strong before, now it's almost unbearable. It's thick and cloudy, filling every corner with sweet perfume, hanging like mist and sticking to their skin. It pushes his fears away until he's giddy with suspense, and barely notices that Hyunjin is moving away again.

The paragraph is coming to an end, and Jeongin can't see Hyunjin.

Each letter, every carefully enunciated syllable brings him closer to his brother. His eyes zero in on the sigil in front of him. Even if he wanted to, he can't tear his eyes away. The floor seems to crumple like a piece of paper, folding into itself and shrinking until he realises that he's beginning to sway dangerously.

And he can't see Hyunjin.

The atmosphere in the room shifts. The lack of warmth at his side spreads like ice through his body, freezes his limbs and kisses his fingers with frostbite. His soul hardens, every splinter of ice shattering his bones into butterfly splinters, a spiderweb of crack dusting over his skin. He only knows he's alive because his lips are still moving. They're so,  _so_ cold but they're still moving.

Black spots dance in his vision. His grip on the book loosens, until the pages are slipping out of his hands and sent crashing onto the floor below. His head is filled with cherries, but he swallows the scent and keeps talking.

Something moves at the very edge of his vision.

Jeongin moves his head, battling his frozen neck with every millimetre he turns, and although his eyes are still trained upon the centre of the ring, he can just about make out what the movement is.

Hyunjin.

He's on his knees, leaning forwards. One of the candles isn't quite in the circle. It's only a few centimetres out, but that's enough. The ring is broken, and he's almost thankful for Hyunjin positioning it correctly until he remembers every single warning written in the thousands of books they've read. Every single consequence.

He goes to warn him, to cry out and push him away from danger, but he can't. His body is frozen in place, the ice seeping from his bones and pinning him to the floor. His lips are moving, but the waterfall of Latin doesn't stop. It spills from his lips despite the warnings he's screaming in his head.

It's not worth it.

To see his brother's ghost, finally apologise and say one last goodbye. So Jisung can tell him that it wasn't his fault, and the guilt that's been weighing Jeongin down since he was two years old can finally be lifted.

What he's been waiting for, years of his life spent searching for a way. He'd give it up in a second, less than a heartbeat, to keep the older safe in his arms.

It's never been worth it, not if he loses Hyunjin.

But Hyunjin is Hyunjin, and Hyunjin is curious, oblivious, soft-hearted, the sweetest boy Jeongin's ever met. And Hyunjin is reaching out to push the candle back.

His fingers connect with the glass in slow motion. He barely has to put any effort into the movement, the candle simply sliding into place like the universe itself willed it. And then his eyes open, wide, glancing to Jeongin as if he's seen something the younger hasn't.

And then there's nothing.

Or rather, there's everything.

The room fills with light, blinding Jeongin. The last few syllables of Latin pouring from his mouth cease immediately. For a moment, he thinks he's done something wrong, and then he realises it's simply because the chant has finished. In place of the words are huge coughs and splutters. Smoke intermingles with the flashes of light, pasting itself to the insides of his lungs.

He stumbles forwards in a desperate attempt to find Hyunjin, but is sent sprawling forwards when his foot connects with the book he'd dropped earlier. His jaw connects with the floorboards with a sickening thud. It's all too loud in the silence of the room, but he barely has tome to take in what's happening before Hyunjin is finally by his side.

The older boy pulls him up from the ground and lets him lean against his side. His hair is messy, cheeks stained with soot. Despite the tears in his clothes, the frantic coughing that neither of them can stop, he's still the most beautiful boy Jeongin's ever seen.

As suddenly as the smoke appeared, it vanishes.

The room clears. Jeongin can finally make out the finer features on Hyunjin's face, and through the buzzing in his ears just about make out his worried questions. The words escape him, but Hyunjin's delicate touches to his jaw answer and questions he may have had. The area is sore, but he can bear the pain.

"I'm fine," he mutters, trying not to wince at how every word sends shooting pains through his mouth.

"I don't think you are," says a new voice. It pierces directly through the fog in Jeongin's brain, and even if it was Hyunjin, his mouth hasn't moved at all. "That could be a fracture. You should probably get it checked out at a dentist."

There's a boy stood in the middle of the circle.

He's cute. Jeongin may be hopelessly in love with Hyunjin, but he can't deny that this boy is cute. He's got big eyes that seem to take up most of his face, and gives off a puppy-like vibe. There's a light spot on his cheek, the shiny healing skin of a recent scar. But what's most noticeable is his hair.

Fluffy hair that flops into his eyes, the colour of cherries.

And the fact that he isn't Jisung.

Every candle except one is extinguished. In one large step, the boy crosses the room and blows it out.

"I think you'd go to the doctor's if you had a fractured jaw," says Hyunjin, as if that's the most pressing issue. His face is creased up, as if he's genuinely thought about it, and knowing Hyunjin he probably has.

"It doesn't matter where you should go, because my jaw isn't fractured."

The boy raises his eyebrows. He doesn't step outside of the sigil, but Jeongin is still close enough that he can place his hands on his face and bring them closer. His fingers are warm, melting the last remaining ice that lurks behind Jeongin's skin. One thumb reaches out to brush over the red mark that's already forming on the base of his jaw.

"You're right," he says, and he's close enough that his breath is warm against his skin. It leaves a trail of goosebumps up Jeongin's neck, the scent of cherries getting even more overpowering. "It's just bruised. You don't have to worry; it'll probably heal within the week."

Jeongin pulls away, the skin where the boy's fingers were tingling. "And who are you to be telling me when it'll heal?"

The boy frowns and takes a step back, the back of his shoes hitting the glass of the candles at the other side of the circle. He glances down at the sound, but his eyes travel over the carefully drawn lines beneath him with a kind of hunger that Jeongin's never seen before. His mouth falls open in surprise.

"I've never seen these kinds of marking before," he admits, ignoring Jeongin's question and tracing one of the lines with the tip of his shoe, "I assume you weren't trying to summon me, so that begs the question of what you  _were_ trying to summon."

"A ghost," says Hyunjin, grabbing Jeongin's hand and pulling him closer.

"A ghost?" Repeats the boy, "I assume the owner of this book?" He bends over and picks up Jisung's notebook, opening it and flicking through the pages idly. He doesn't seem bothered by the crimson stain marring the cover.

Jeongin flinches. That's his brother's. He doesn't want whoever-  _whatever_ the boy is touching what remains of Jisung. "Put it down," he hisses, perhaps harsher than necessary.

The boy smiles, and drops it. It falls from his fingers lazily and hits the floor with a bang. The pages fall open, displaying all of Jisung's raw and unrestrained thoughts to anyone and everyone.  Lines and lines of messy blue ink spilling into word after word, stained with water and dirt and blood.

"What do you want." Jeongin's voice is flat. His fingers itch with the urge to grab the book and pull it close to his chest where no harm will ever come to it again, but something stops him. Hyunjin's warm wrist pressed against his own. A strange, primal fear of the boy in the circle. All his instincts are screaming at him to get away, that a single one of his hairs falling past the candles would have terrible consequences.

"What do  _you_  want?"

Hyunjin frowns, "What do you mean?"

The boy sighs. "You can't summon a ghost. That's impossible, so I'm afraid whatever bullshit book told you that you could was lying."

Jeongin's mind freezes. All his thoughts, the icy fear and blinding hope that had finally let him sleep for the past month evaporates. The boy's words loop through his head like a scratched record stuck on repeat.

Jisung can't come back.

It's impossible.

"What?" He manages to say, voice smaller than ever before.

The boy ignores him in favour of continuing to talk. "So I assume you followed the instructions? And since they were completely wrong, that led you to summoning me instead of your dead..." he glances between the notebook and Jeongin, "brother?"

Jeongin still can't move. His mouth hangs open on the last syllable if his question, but he can't close it. Every one of his muscles is consumed by the same ice as before, the heat adrenaline rushing through his veins the only thing keeping him breathing. But the boy is clearly waiting for an answer, so Hyunjin nods.

"Huh," says the boy. He nudges the book with his toe again, almost awkwardly. He doesn't seem half as confident as he had before, "Well. My name's Seungmin, and I can't leave until I complete your contract."

"I know how demons work." Jeongin finally speaks up. He's read through hundreds of passages about summoning demons in his attempt to find a ritual for a ghost. Of course, he never thought he'd actually need that knowledge. "Which means I know that there's no way we should trust you."

"What do I have to gain from betraying you?"

"What do you have to gain from helping us?"

"Good point," says Seungmin, revealing a row of slightly too-sharp teeth when he smiles, "But it's much more interesting to stay here for a bit. You're the first people to summon me in about fifty years, and I was beginning to get bored. I'm invested in your story now."

He takes a step forward, smile widening, "And besides, if I was just going to betray you, wouldn't I have done this earlier?" He pushes one of the candles away, revealing a tiny discolouration in the red paint of the sigil. It looks insignificant, but it's the slightest crack in their careful circle, and that break means Seungmin is free to leave.

And he does.

He crosses the line in one swift motion, suddenly way closer to them and stealing Jeongin's breath away. His eyes scan them, but there's no malice in the action. Instead, he pauses when he sees their interconnected hands, confusion flickering across his face, before he sculpts his features into the same blank expression as before.

And he's so,  _so_ warm.

Jeongin can feel the heat radiating of his skin from here, the air melting around them. Hyunjin's fingertips are cool as they're looped around his, but Seungmin's whole body seems to push back any of the ice that remained in Jeongin's bones.

If Hyunjin is a endlessly refreshing, a cold drink on a hot day and ice-cream melting on your tongue, Seungmin is a hot water bottle, crackling fire on a winter's day and gloves as the snow piles up.

Quite frankly, that scares Jeongin.

"We have no reason to trust you." says Hyunjin. They stand closer to each other, bodies forming a barrier against the boy only a few feet in front of them. "Leave. We don't want a contract."

Seungmin sighs, in the type of action that shows he's done this hundreds of times before. "You have to make a contract."

Hyunjin glances at Jeongin. He cups one palm around his ear and whispers into it, messages so quiet that Seungmin can't possibly hear them. "Can we jut make the contract something easy? Like buying us face-masks or something. Would that work?"

Before Jeongin has a chance to reply, Seungmin is interrupting him. "Before you decide to waste this chance, let me tell you one thing: there are other ways to see a ghost than summoning rituals."

And suddenly whatever Hyunjin had said is forgotten.

"Any ghost? Jisung's ghost?"

"Sure," Seungmin sounds all too casual. This is Jeongin's brother they're talking about- the hope that had been ripped so violently away from him suddenly flooding his body with an intensity so strong black spots flash across his vision. "He was young, and died in an accident, right? It's actually pretty likely that he's still able to be reached."

Jeongin's about to open his mouth when Hyunjin tugs his sleeve again. Probably knowing that Jeongin's about to agree to the demon's contract for the sake of reaching his brother. There's not a single hesitation in Jeongin's mind- if this a chance to find Jisung again, he'll take it.

No questions asked.

But he knows Hyunjin is worried, careful hesitant. He's reluctant to accept anything without overthinking the offer. Jeongin can't blame him, not really. His whole life he'd been taken advantage of by people who assumed he was just a pretty face. He'd had to work so hard just to be taken seriously, been betrayed so many times as the latest trends changed.

It's not Hyunjin's fault, but Jeongin still can't help wishing he'd understand.

This is Jeongin's whole life, what he's dedicated  _so many_ years to, all bound between the pages that lie open in the middle of the circle.

He can't afford to hesitate.

_Screeching wheels and the tennis ball against his foot. Looking up into twin bright lights and his limbs turning to stone, body frozen with a fear he isn't old enough to process yet. Warm hands hard on his back, gravel scraping his cheeks as he's pushed, stumbling over an untied shoelace-_

Not again.

"Jeongin-" says Hyunjin, and Jeongin pulls him closer than ever.

"I have to take this. I have to find him, Jinnie. I can't-" His voice breaks off, hitching in a sob that shudders through his entire body. There's so much more that he needs to say, but his tongue won't work, and maybe it doesn't matter anyway because Hyunjin understands.

Hyunjin will always understand.

"We'll take the contract," he says, Jeongin's support, his voice when Jeongin's words are too afraid to come out, "You'll help find Jeongin's brother. Jisung."

Seungmin smiles. "Is that a-"

"Your contract ends when we make direct contact with him, here, in the mortal world."

"Done."

Jeongin's legs give out. He didn't know it was about to happen until it does- and then hems sliding down the wall with a heavy head and tears streaming down his face.

The floorboards are beginning to cool down, the cherry-scented fog just starting to disappear. His hands are shaking, but he can just manage to keep his grasp around Hyunjin's fingers. He uses them to keep him grounded, but suddenly realises that he doesn't need to. For the first time, his mind is clear.

It's happening.

They're going to find Jisung.

"Thank you," he manages to say, using all his remaining energy to whisper the words. He almost doesn't think the demon heard him, but Seungmin takes a step back. There's an unreadable expression on his face, but Jeongin can't bring himself to worry about it.

Hyunjin curls up beside him. His skin is cool, calming against the hot flush of Jeongin's forehead. Their bodies melt together, filled with a euphoric rush of relief- because as much as this is Jeongin's brother, Hyunjin has never let him shoulder the weight of the guilt alone. His relief is  _their_ relief.

And it always will be.

Eventually, Seungmin speaks up. He's visibly uncomfortable with how close they are, like he's witnessing something intimate and private. "When do we leave?"

"Morning." Jeongin slurs. The relief is beginning to melt into exhaustion. His body is just beginning to recover from the rollercoaster of despair and hope. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off, leaving him too tired to do anything. Tomorrow they'll leave. They'll look for his brother.

Tomorrow sounds good.

"Tomorrow?" Seungmin looks confused for a second, scanning them before asking, "I thought- Don't you have school?"

Hyunjin hums his affirmation. "Yeah," he mumbles into Jeongin's neck, "But 'doesn't matter. 'Won't miss us." His lips are warm against Jeongin's skin, a pleasant contrast to the cool pads of his fingertips dancing over his arms.

Jeongin smiles at Seungmin. He can't help it; his mind has slipped into a state of exhaustion that his thoughts are barely coherent. With one limp hand, he gestures for Seungmin to join them. The room is too cold, and to his sleep-addled mind, having the demon next to him is like having an electric blanket or personal heater.

Seungmin hesitates. He's still obvious confused. "Are you going to sleep?" He asks, shifting awkwardly, "I- uh, I don't need to sleep."

Jeongin can't work up the energy to tell Seungmin that he doesn't care. Luckily, Hyunjin replies for him, "'stupid. Doesn't matter."

With one strong hand, he grabs Seungmin's leg from where he's shuffled closer. The demon has a surprisingly bad sense of balance, and practically lands on top of them. Jeongin takes his chance, and wraps the arm that isn't curled behind Hyunjin around him. He fits in the pile like it was meant to be, practically a third puzzle piece that they never knew existed.

He's already beginning to warm them up, the heat from his skin slowly warming Jeongin's soul, pulling him into a deeper sleep than ever before. He can't help but smile when Seungmin stops trying to pull away and gives up. He's comfortable now.

The last few thoughts in his mind flicker past his eyes as he sinks into oblivion, but only one is important.

Jisung.

He's going to find Jisung.

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing another seungmin fic: no wait i promise im a jisung stan
> 
> this was also supposed to get darker at the end (think more like daisies and mushrooms) but then i couldn't do that to my sleepy boys uwu (might still add it later tho)
> 
> on another note, would anyone be interested if I wrote a whole skz fic in this universe? like linking all the one-shots together or something


End file.
